


Pain and Healing

by hazy_ji



Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice
Genre: M/M, No spoilers for Hanbei's questline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 14:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18390254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazy_ji/pseuds/hazy_ji
Summary: Without purpose, life and death alike are both meaningless. Hanbei has no choice but to press on, helping in any way he can.





	Pain and Healing

The shrine was always peaceful. That was what Hanbei liked about it. The snow fell gently here, with hardly ever the barest hint of a breeze to influence its path. From the bamboo clearing he could see the temple which had a nice candlelit glow in the evenings as the mysterious sculptor whittled away the hours inside, out of sight. This place was safe, even for one bearing a curse such as himself. Now and then he even indulged in the pleasure of sleep, back resting against the wooden altar. He always awoke covered in a thin layer of snow, but the cold had stopped bothering him years ago.

When the shinobi enters, his sword is drawn.

"Never seen you before," Hanbei remarks. "What's your name?" But his questions are only met with silence. Hanbei's eyes slowly travel from the stranger's face (indifferent) to his sword, which is clean but clearly well-used. _Shinobi_. It's written all over him. Though why he won't say as much, Hanbei can't figure. As he shifts, the light catches his left arm in a way that isn't natural, and something about it seems oddly familiar.

The man turns, looks at the battered shrine, and begins to leave.

"Wait," Hanbei calls, stepping forward. "Whoever you are, you seem to be a skilled warrior. Please heed my request." With a hiss of steel, he draws his sword from its sheath. "Face me in combat."

There's a brief moment when the other man's eyes widen in recognition, and then Hanbei is moving to block a swing aimed at his throat. He fights back, trying to gain ground but the stranger is relentless in his barrage, moving with a fluid grace that belies its lethality. The clash of metal fills the bamboo grove, startling birds from their perches and sending snowflakes spiraling out in flurries. It's only another few swings until he's knocked off his rhythm, faltering to the side for just long enough for his opponent to rush forward and stab him right through the chest.

The sword is pulled out, the blood flicked off with a expert twist of the wrist, and the stranger takes a step back as Hanbei drops to his knees, bloody and wheezing, and falls flat on the snow.

Another death. The strange sensation that follows, like a dream of falling faster _faster_ and suddenly waking up. It's unpleasant, but unfortunately it's nothing new.

He flexes his fingers first, testing, before slowly pushing off the earth and heaving his weary body back upright.

"What are you?" The stranger asks as Hanbei clears his throat, spitting up blood.

"Some call it undying. Others, infested. Simply put, I can't die. So I just am." When Hanbei looks, the stranger's face isn't filled with fear or disgust. Instead, he just looks sad.

The sword is sheathed at long last. "They call me Wolf." He says with a bow of the head, and the name rings familiar from some far-off place. Hadn't there been stories among the Ashina samurai about such a Wolf? _Or had that been an Owl?_ Death hadn’t helped his memory.

"Hanbei," he says in response. "And you are as skilled as I'd thought. I thank you for the match." He gives a short bow at this, eyes cast downward. "I'd be honored to help you hone your skills, should you ever have need of it. As I understand it, a body that cannot die could be of good use to someone in your profession."

Wolf arches a brow at this. "You do not mind dying?"

"I don't exactly enjoy it, but I'm quite good at it you see." He says with a smile. "Besides, they always say that swinging one's sword is a cure for boredom."

Wolf nods. Hanbei suddenly remembers where he's seen that strange prosthetic arm he's wearing and wonders if the sculptor is working twice as hard, half as fast, or not at all. Wolf leaves before he has a chance to ask.

\--

He sees Wolf often after this. The shinobi comes and goes at all hours of the day, visiting the sculptor and seeking out Hanbei for practice fairly frequently. Then he’s gone for several days, finally arriving late one afternoon smelling of oil and smoke. He’s moving differently; to Hanbei's eyes, eternally tired and unfocused, he seems almost to glide across the snow, coming to stop in front of him without hardly making a sound.

"I need to practice a technique," He says.

"Of course," Hanbei stands up straighter. "What would you like me to do?"

"Come at me," Wolf mutters, reaching to grab the sword at his side. A gust blows and rattles the bamboo shoots as he takes several steps back, adopting a defensive stance.

"Right to it, then?" He remarks with a chuckle. Wolf says nothing.

Hanbei draws his blade, rushing in and darting to the right where he knows Wolf's defenses are weakest. He aims a quick swipe and hears the shrill sound of the deflection before he sees it. He lunges, trying to knock the other man off balance but Wolf moves quickly, spinning back into his previous position without wasting a moment. Their eyes meet as Hanbei rights himself. Wolf's breath puffs out a cloud as he inches away, eyes narrowed in concentration.

Something has definitely changed; he's shifting his weight less, much more sure in his movements than the last time they'd sparred. Hanbei has a theory, and he charges forward again, swinging at Wolf's left side. Again- he's deflected, and his opponent backs away rather than retaliating. The wind blows, sending up flurries as they circle each other slowly.

_He’s balanced_ \- no longer compensating for the lost limb.

Hanbei tightens his grip, bringing his sword close to his chest and thrusts forward, but Wolf twists away effortlessly. (Though he has the clear height advantage, Hanbei somehow never feels as though his reach counts for much in these duels.) He blocks his next swing, steel crashing against steel, and they trade several fast-paced blows until he aims lower and Wolf moves fast, reacting instantly with a stomp that buries his sword in the ground.

Before he can react, there's a strong grip at his shoulder and a piercing pain in his neck. Blood spurts across the snow as Wolf wrenches his blade free with practiced ease, and Hanbei admires the grace of it even as he collapses, losing consciousness.

Wolf kills him twice more in the same fashion before agreeing to a break.

It’s late afternoon now and the sun hangs low in the trees, casting long shadows that dance in the wind. Wolf takes a drink from the gourd at his waist before offering it out to Hanbei, who takes a grateful pull as well. Instantly, his pain lessens. _The Ashina healing waters_ … Who would have guessed that so many of the stories were true?

"You're adjusting to it," Hanbei says with a nod toward Wolf’s prosthetic arm once he’s caught his breath. "Used to be I could always hit you on the left. Guess you got tired of the cheap shots, hm?"

Wolf makes a non-committal grunt from where he's sitting next to the donation box.

"Does it hurt?"

“Sometimes.” Wolf answers plainly. "Does it hurt when I kill you?"

There's blood still slowly ebbing from the wound in Hanbei's neck but the medicinal waters helped the worst of it, the pain pulsing weaker with each heartbeat. He hums, reaching up to wipe away the worst of the mess. "It hurts," he says, "but not for long. It's worth it." He rolls his shoulder, standing and lifting his sword. "Another round?"

"Why?"

The question catches him off guard. "Why what?"

"Why is it worth it?"

Hanbei blinks slowly. Wolf's eyes meet his, and something in the other man's gaze tells him that his response is important. "This curse… It's only ever been a burden to me. I'm glad to see it can be of use to someone else, that's all."

_Hasn't it saved your life?_ Hanbei waits for the question, but it remains unsaid.

"Not as though there's much else for me to be doing, anyway." He adds with a grin. "And I'd like to see if I can lessen that furrow in your brow, if only a little."

Wolf sighs at that, his hand dropping to his hilt as he stands. _Didn't want to think he was kicking a man who was already down_. He seemed quite the honorable type, despite what Hanbei had heard regarding those of his profession.

"Again." Wolf says as he takes a step back, and the clashing of swords fills the grove until the sun sets.

\--

It's several nights later when Hanbei sees him next. He's watching the snow accumulate, contemplating sleep, when a hand at his shoulder makes him jolt his drooping head upright. Had he been asleep? He hadn't heard anyone approach, but Wolf is here standing beside him and the grip on his shoulder lingers, hot against his chilled skin.

"What brings you here, friend?" He says groggily. "Awfully late for sword practice."

"Would you object to helping me with something... a bit different?" The low light casts a shadow over Wolf's face, and he seems almost incorporeal, the way he blends into the darkness.

"You know I'm always glad to help your cause."

"What if this cause were not so noble?" Wolf's hand grips him tighter, and Hanbei can feel the other man's body heat as he steps forward, breaching the distance they've only closed before in combat. He tenses, now wide awake as a gust of wind blows through the tree branches and the light of the moon briefly illuminates his companion's face. He's wearing a look Hanbei hasn’t seen before, and it takes him a moment to realize that he looks _nervous_.

Hanbei licks his lips, searching for words and wondering if he's completely misread the situation. After a moment of faltered starts, Wolf's hand drops away.

"Wait-" He catches Wolf's fingers in a loose grip as he pulls away, loathe to lose the contact so soon. "Whatever you need," he says quietly, not quite knowing what he's offering, "I'd be honored to help."

Their eyes meet, and even with the dim lighting Hanbei can see the other man's serious expression. After a beat, Wolf looks down at where their hands are still gently entwined, and slowly, purposefully, lifts Hanbei's hand to his face. Locking eyes again, he parts his lips and takes two of his fingers into his mouth.

Hanbei's breath catches in his throat, his eyes widening. Wolf's gaze remains locked on his as his tongue presses flat against his calloused fingers, pulling his hand further in until Hanbei can feel the wet heat of his throat; a gesture that surely couldn't be misinterpreted. A long-forgotten warmth unfurls deep within his gut. _How long had it been...?_ The answer never comes, memories of warmth and intimacy so long forgotten with the death and violence that's occupied his life since. Cold air hits his fingers as Wolf slowly pulls his mouth away, a thin thread of saliva forming and snapping in an instant.

"Please," Wolf breathes out, and Hanbei knows what he wants, more than anything. Wasting no time, his hand drops between the shinobi's legs. He's half-hard already, pressing back into his open palm with a groan.

Hanbei keeps his hand where it is, letting the other man rock against him until the friction seems to be too much. Wolf’s hands drop to untie his sash, pushing his clothes aside enough to expose his erection to the cold air. Hanbei takes him gently in hand, and Wolf's hands come up to grasp at his shoulders with his mismatched grip. The spit still on his fingers helps to ease the glide as he finds a pace, stroking Wolf's length in time to his harsh breathing. Wolf, for his part, seems to be getting what he wanted if the sounds he's making are any indication; little whines and moans escaping into the still night. He presses closer as he shudders into Hanbei's touch, face coming to rest against his neck. Something about him seems so fragile in this moment, so utterly different than anything he'd come to expect from the shinobi that Hanbei is mesmerized. He twists his wrist on the next stroke and Wolf makes a sudden sound like he's been stabbed. He wants desperately to see his face, imagines him biting at his lip to try and keep himself silent.

It's too tempting not to tease just a little. Hanbei's hand slows, tracing light touches where he'd just held firm, and Wolf's fingers tighten against his shoulders in response. He says nothing, so Hanbei runs the tip of his index finger along the length of him, pressing against the wetness he finds at the tip. There's a bit-off moan in Hanbei's ear, and he takes pity, grabbing him again and stroking at a fast pace until he feels Wolf's body begin to shake apart in his arms. His hips move of their own will, setting a frantic pace as he fucks Hanbei's fist to completion. Finally he slows as warm liquid splashes against his wrist, and Hanbei steadies his partner with an arm at his back as he rides out his climax, gasping and shuddering with exertion.

Wolf sags against his shoulder as Hanbei wipes his hand off on his tattered pants. The silence lasts a long moment as the other man catches his breath, Hanbei’s hand rubbing at his back soothingly. Eventually he pulls back, hands falling to tuck himself away and refasten the ties that held his clothes together. Now that he can finally see his face, Hanbei can see how obviously flushed he is, even in the near-darkness. He feels a strange sense of pride at how undone he could make Wolf look, if only for a brief moment.

Before he can fully lament the loss of his warmth, Wolf drops to his knees in front of him. _You don't have to_ \- the words die in Hanbei's throat as the other man deftly undoes the clasps holding together his armor and presses his mouth against the tented fabric between his legs. With a shock, Hanbei realizes he's fully hard, having ignored this ache same as the rest. He stills awkwardly, suddenly feeling lightheaded as hands pull at his clothing, and when he feels Wolf’s mouth on his bare skin, Hanbei's mind goes completely blank.

He won’t last long. Wolf is clearly experienced in the act, taking him deep in his throat and bobbing his head expertly, tongue pressed flat against his length. Hanbei gasps, grabbing at his hair as he thrusts into the wet heat, feeling his cock hit the back of his throat. The shinobi seems unbothered by the rough treatment, breathing hard through his nose and letting Hanbei hold him where he wants him. The pace quickens and Hanbei tenses, stuttering out a groan as he thrusts harder, once- _twice_ \- and comes down Wolf’s throat, feeling the other man dutifully swallowing around him.

When the world comes back into focus there are hands at his waist diligently refastening his armor. Wolf stands shakily, and Hanbei can see that his face is flushed even further, his lips reddened and his hair sticking out wildly. It's quite a sight.

The silence stretches on for a long moment as they both steady their breathing.

"Incredible," Hanbei muses aloud, at long last. He raises a hand, cupping Wolf's cheek. The shorter man leans into the touch without hesitation, and Hanbei strokes his thumb over his sharp cheekbone, circling around his eye to rest at the skin between his brows. “Your frown is gone.”

Wolf huffs, cracking a wry smile when Hanbei chuckles at his own joke. “Yes, well done,” he mutters with sarcasm, but Hanbei can sense the underlying sincerity.

“Any time."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a break from the final boss to write some unedited nasties because I had a Mighty Need to see Wolf suck a dick whoops.


End file.
